


Can't Call It Leavin'

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amulet Fic, M/M, Supernatural Season 05, Team Free Will, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The amulet doesn't respond to the touch of angels. Cas needs both Dean and the necklace to help him find God. Takes place sometime after 05.06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Call It Leavin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orange_crushed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_crushed/gifts).



> Takes place sometime after [05.06 I Believe the Children Are Our Future](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=5.06_I_Believe_the_Children_Are_Our_Future) and before [05.13 The Song Remains the Same](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=5.13_The_Song_Remains_the_Same).
> 
> I do not own the rights to these characters, setting, show, etc. No harm is intended.

Lately, when Dean tries to drive out of the Midwest, whatever case they're headed towards gets swept up into deeper madness, into the entire mess of the impending apocalypse. Or maybe cleaned up by another hunter. Or turns out to not be a case at all but just your typical neighborhood shut-in with too many cats. And Dean had really been looking forward to heading for a state that wasn't shaped like a square.

He's disgusted with everything right now. He's fighting a sinus headache. Sam isn't helping the situation at all because he keeps, like, picking his nose. As if there's some imaginary cat hair there that he can't quite grasp and yank out. He keeps clearing his throat and hacking things up. The cat hair stuck to his pants was driving him so crazy he actually bought a lint roller at the last gas station they stopped in. Plus Dean's been completely cleaned out of hairball jokes.

So they're a joy to be around today.

The motel door doesn't unlock to Dean's key card so he just kind of slams his head into it and closes his eyes and stretches his hand out behind him until Sam hands over his own key. He could break in faster than it takes Sam to stop digging in his nose and catch a clue.

After they flip the lights on, they pause only a moment to acknowledge Castiel perched on the end of the closest bed, before they start kicking their shoes off. Cas is silent, staring down at the carpet between his feet. The Winchesters only exchange a look. Sam's says, _your turn_ , and Dean's says, _go wash your fucking hands, please_.

Sam retreats to the bathroom to go blow snot rockets into the sink. Cas finally looks up to glare at the door he'd closed behind him, positively reverberating with elephantine honking.

"Cats," Dean tries to dismiss with a shrug, but then pounds once on the door. They hear the tap and nothing else over the sound of the water.

Dean's eyes go wide when he says, "Aaaaanyway. What's the word?"

Castiel, already emanating a rather bummer vibe, frowns pitifully before his features flatten back out into nothing. He digs in his pocket and comes back up with Dean's necklace. "I've done some research and asked around. I called Bobby Singer and we discussed it." Cas sighs, twists the brass amulet in his fingers for a moment with a touch of reverence. "This won't work for me. He told me where you were staying. I thought I should bring it back to you as soon as possible." Finally, Cas holds it out. "I thank you, Dean."

And he looks really, really thankful, too. This soft, pleading sadness in his eyes. Like he's so goddamn indebted to Dean for giving him the opportunity to fail miserably for a few weeks. Like he's actually really glad Dean spared the time to part with it and give him false hope.

Dean crosses the room and comes closer. The heavy metal swings gently into his outstretched hand and Cas gives up the rest of the cord.

"I'm really sorry, man," Dean says quietly. "I. There. There's not-- I mean. Is there some other way? Some other object? Some divination ritual or something?"

No response. None whatsoever. Just that same sad, rueful look.

"He's your dad, though. I mean," Dean sits on the end of Sam's bed, "there's gotta be some lead we can follow. You know, we can help a while." Dean tosses his thumb in the direction of Virginia. "Today's didn't actually turn out to be anything for us. Sam and me could try to help?"

"Dean," Cas sighs again. "Thank you. Again. But there's nothing like the amulet. No other object that would give a hint of God's location. Only," and he points to Dean's hand where the necklace still rests.

"So it actually does work. It's supposed to work. But, what? It doesn't?"

"Not for me."

"For who then."

Castiel frowns slightly again, but covers for it by rising and straightening. "You've helped me on this enough. This was my task to accomplish. Your time is better spent on tangible objects. The Colt--"

"Nah--no. No. Hold on," Dean rises. "And lookit me." He waits a moment for Cas to quit avoiding eye contact. "There's something else. You already know who could make it work." He holds up the amulet between them. "Who is it, Cas? We find them, we find your-- we find God, right?"

Cas drops eye contact again, so Dean knows he's right. He cocks an eyebrow. "It's Bobby, isn't it? He's the one who owned it and--"

"He _did_ own it. He's not the current owner."

Oh.

"So it's me. So." Dean stops and looks to the bathroom door. The shower's started, so there's no chance of Sam hearing. Not that it would matter to _him_ more than Dean. But still. "So, okay. If _I_ give it to _you_ , then you own it. You're the owner. It'll work for you. So," and he holds out the amulet again. "Take it."

"That's not," Cas very nearly rolls his eyes, "Dean, that won't work."

"Why the hell not?"

"The amulet must be given freely with some ceremony and intent. Bestowed on the basis of protection and love."

Dean snorts. "It was a Christmas gift. It wasn't even supposed to be _for_ me."

"It was still given freely to you, by your brother, with the intent of protecting you, in the spirit of love, on the occasion of the celebration of the birth of Christ."

"I'd never thought of it as that specific. Great. So, what's the next holiday? Halloween. Shit. When's your birthday?"

Cas's face is all confusion.

"Ah. Yeah. Probably no cake and presents upstairs."

Cas looks like he's just ready to shake Dean off. "There is a possible lead I could follow on the Colt, Dean. I'll call you if--"

"No, Cas, no. Wait. What about me? I can still help you look."

Castiel only shakes his head. "I will call you tomorrow, Dean."

"Wait! Why not me, Cas? If the fucking thing will work for me, why don't I go with you?"

Cas finally betrays himself. He should keep radiating impatience. He should fly off. But he stops and just squints and looks like he's trying not to either get mad _or_ get excited. Dean knows the look of it. He can also tell he's hit the mark. Dean _is_ able to operate the amulet. He's the full-time owner.

Cas is half-turned away in retreat. Dean pulls him back around now, by the shoulder.

"Hey. Look, I know I wasn't big on this idea, but I'm not completely-- Dude, I know this is your _dad_ we're talking about. And, shit, if we've got a chance to prove that dick Raphael wrong? I'll take that bet. C'mon. Why not?"

Cas finally relents, looking away as he admits, "Bobby told me not to ask you."

"Bobby?"

"He said you dislike flight. That you have a _strong aversion_ to flying. And you already said that your body is unused to the effects of angelic flight..." He trails off, not about to hold Dean's bowel movements against him.

"Well, alright. Okay. But we can drive," Dean shrugs.

Cas looks straight at him again. "My search requires me to leave the country, Dean. The continent. I could actually stand to search a few other planets, quite frankly. And some other places I know you cannot go. We can't reach every place in your car."

Dean kind of hangs there for a second, searching for the stones he needs to gather to man up and just demand that Cas bring him with. Cas watches him for a too-long moment and withers again.

"Bobby was right, Dean. It is too much to ask of you."

"I'm not _afraid_ ," Dean blurts.

Cas eyes him steadily for a moment more. "I did not say you were afraid."

"So take me."

They're quiet for a moment in which the shower shuts off and the room goes quiet. There's only the distant barking of a dog and a little of Dean shifting. He finally just puts the necklace back on and heads to where he left his jacket and shoes. "C'mon. Test run. Let's get some Chinese food. We'll bring some back for Sammy and then you and me will head out. Maybe Sam can stick around here and think up some other places we should look." He tugs his boot laces tight and looks back up to Cas. "Ready?"

Cas looks between the door and Dean, between the bathroom door and Dean, then he walks forward. He holds up his hand.

Dean doesn't wait. He decides to step forward into the touch.

And they're in China.

He probably should have told Cas he was aiming for the strip mall two blocks over.

«»

Sam's standing at the window, staring out at the Impala, dark and quiet in the parking lot. He's chewing on a thumbnail and hitting redial and he nearly bites his finger in half _and_ cracks his phone on the windowsill when Dean pops up behind him and says, "FYI: Cas speaks Chinese."

"JESUS, could you-- what the _fuck_ , Dean?!"

Dean is holding out a big, plump, white pastry in a napkin. "Barbeque steamed bun."

Sam takes it out of his hand, still giving him a seriously weird look.

Dean's also holding wooden skewers with all kinds of meats on them. Cas is behind him with a sagging box full of food and an actual bowl of soup. Everything smells delicious.

"I'm... gonna ask this and I'm gonna feel dumb about it but did you go to China? Like, actual China?"

"Yeah. Well. I said 'Chinese food' and he heard ' _Chinese_ food' and anyway it was kind of a test run." Dean proceeds to demolish half a skewer of what looks like tiny poultry pieces. Cas puts everything down on the table and pushes the spoon and the soup over to Sam.

"A test run?" Holy fuck. He puts the bun down because he's going to fucking demolish this soup. It looks and smells incredible.

"Yeaum," Dean says through his food. "We're goin' on a kinda mission? Cas needs me to work the amulet."

Sam looks up to see that Dean does, indeed, have it back where it always used to be, peeking out from between the two sides of his plaid shirt.

"How?" he asks with a little less incredulity than he feels, getting busy with the soup.

"Don't worry about it," Dean says, pulling pieces off a second skewer. "You hang out here. Maybe think of some places we should look."

Sam coughs on the soup a little because it's still too hot to eat and he can't give a shit. "Uh. For God?"

"Yeah."

Yeah. Right, Sam thinks. He'll get right on that. He doesn't bother so much as rolling his eyes, though. He does eventually get to the steamed bun. And the dumplings. And the skewers Dean left. Fucking delicious.

«»

Dean's digging through the trunk for spare ammo and the big monster knife. Even if this is just some sightseeing, he's not going anywhere without something to reload and something else he doesn't _have to_ reload. He pulled himself away from the food before he was full. It didn't seem like such a great idea to go bouncing around on the angel express with a stomach full to bursting.

He had not expected to end up so far away, so suddenly. Popping up in the middle of a bustling market district in the bright of day was disorienting enough. Then it wasn't just the different language that had him instantly _knowing_ he was in another country. It was the way the buildings stood. The air. The altitude. The way the street felt under his feet.

Shit. Dad never even snuck them into _Canada_ before the family name became synonymous with grave desecration and various felonies. They'd have to get some seriously good (read: Expensive) fake passports to make it out of the 48 states. It had just never seemed worth the trouble. There were always plenty of people dying here in the good ole U.S. of A. The most exotic thing they ran into on any regular basis was a housekeeper or farmer or shop owner who didn't speak English.

In the end, it wasn't the fact that Cas was _flying_ them there that shocked Dean's system. Though the landings could be rough, it wasn't like he could watch the clouds catapult by at Cas's impossible speed. It wasn't even really the culture shock. Rather it was a larger, looming, nameless worry about being in other places without the ability in his own hands to get back to his home-- to Sam and the car and his own duffle with his own socks and shoes and the shampoo that didn't smell too flowery and the only backup gun he found tolerable and the excess of blades he couldn't carry in a variety of sizes and elemental makeups.

"We could do this tomorrow." Cas has finally left Sam in the hotel room and come out to get him. He knows he's dawdling. He feels like he should be bringing more than he is. He had felt a little naked without at least a bag of his stuff. All the way in fucking _China_. There's really no reason, though. He's doing Cas a favor with this whole mission. As long as he doesn't act like a total dick, Cas won't leave him anywhere.

Woah. (Mental note: DO NOT act like a total dick.)

"Nah. It's fine."

"It's _late_ ," Cas points out.

"So Sam can drive tomorrow. He's always bitching how he wants to. I'll sleep then. It'll be fine." He thinks about asking if they're going to run into anything. Like strange African spirits or old European demons or Scottish lake monsters or spunky British witches, but he doesn't want to betray any nervousness. Apparently Bobby already made him sound like some phobic little girl, enough that Cas wasn't going to ask for his help at all. Fuck it. Demons are demons are spirits are bad guys all over the world, right? And if nothing else, Cas has still got his super angelic strength.

Dean shuts the trunk and shakes out his jacket and puts his hands in his pockets. "Alright. Where to?"

"I'd like to check some of the places I've already been which seemed promising to begin with, but Sam made a suggestion he thought we should try first."

"And this'll light up if we're anywhere near God?" Dean motions to the metal resting against his chest.

"As long as you're the one touching it, yes. It should work."

Dean nods and wants to make a _Star Trek_ joke or something but his throat tightens up and Cas comes closer. Dean closes his eyes and Cas lays two fingers on his forehead.

«»

It's dark, but not the early evening dark that they just left, more like pre-dawn. It's mountainous, desert, and--

"Holy fucking Last Crusade, Doctor Jones," Dean says, in awe. In front of him stands the façade of a very familiar temple. "We're in, uh," he snaps his fingers, trying to recall. "We're in Turkey?"

Cas shakes his head. "Jordan."

"It was Turkey in the movie."

Cas only gives him a dubious look and starts moving forward, towards the temple. "Al Khazneh. Not actually a treasury. Except a few times when it was used for holding grain. More a tomb. There are other burial chambers in the area. Sam suggested it, though I wasn't clear on why."

"The Holy Grail! That's fuckin' why!"

Dean doesn't see or hear a response as Cas sinks into the darkness inside, beyond the columns. Dean quickens his pace to follow after another long look at the outside.

Cas illuminates the dark by simply raising his hand. It's just a hall. A little tourist worn and no traps or cavernous, hollow rooms. Dean is a bit disappointed but not totally surprised.

"This is not the site of the Grail. Or anything else, I think. We'll move through some of the other parts of the city, though. Some are not yet completely caved in."

"Woah-wo-" Dean starts to say but Cas grabs Dean's elbow and his feet slam down in another dusty cavity in the rock. Castiel holds on to Dean's arm and keeps the other hand up, radiating some preternatural light. He does it four more times, each with a jolt, and only for a few seconds. After he glances to the amulet each time, they leave.

When they finally land back outside in an old Roman stadium, Cas lets go and Dean reels his arms on the landing, but still falls flat onto his back. "We couldn't have _walked_?!" he shouts.

"Not through rock. I apologize," he offers Dean a hand up which Dean only bats away. "Not even a quarter of the city has been excavated yet. We have several places to check, I didn't want to spend a lot of time moving rocks." Cas turns to look around him, squinting like he can see through the surrounding mountains.

"Fine, fine. But, fuck. How come you had to land us so hard every time? Get a better grip on your landings, Cas."

"When moving at such speed, some landings can be eased into," he turns back around to Dean and puts a hand to his arm again. "Like those at great distance."

The world around Dean just turned darker and green, lost the red from the rocks and gained the shine of moonlight in the early evening.

Dean shakes his head clear from the sudden change of scenery but notes that he barely felt the landing that time.

"Uh," he blinks around at everything.

"Peru," Cas offers, and nods in the direction he wants to walk. Dean follows.

"So you can ease into a long-distance landing but when you're just hopping around from room to room, there's not time to slow down," Dean seeks to clarify the conversation they began in the Middle East.

"More or less," Cas confirms.

"How fast do you go, anyways?"

"It varies. Near or faster than light depending on the destination. Then allowances must be made for that speed of travel in relation to human time, the planet's rotation, the possible objects or people crowding the destination. I could explain it best in an equation formed--"

"I bet you could. But there's no hope of me understanding it. Suffice it to say, you power up your FTL and just jump, and sometimes you don't have enough landing strip to ease 'er down."

Cas wavers for a moment, but nods.

They're in some ruins again, but there's grass under their feet and Dean doesn't really get his bearings until they've climbed a few levels up. It gets kind of tough going and he almost asks if Cas can just zap them where they need to go. Or he would if he could catch his breath.

When Cas pauses, Dean takes an opportunity to lean heavily down on his knees and try to breathe as deep as he can. "Whazzit called?" he huffs. "Uh," he sighs deep and does it again. "Damn I swear I saw this on a show. Mater. Mater something?"

"Machu Picchu," Cas turns. "Are you alright?"

Dean waves him off again. He lifts the amulet to his face. "I got nothin', dude."

He stays hunched until he feels Cas's hand touch down on his back.

The first thing that hits him is sweet oxygen. The second is light. Then the cacophony of people all around them. The smell of food in the air. The damp moisture of humidity. The sight of people, animals, water.

Cas's hand slides off his back when he straightens. "We should move along this river for a while."

And they stroll along the holy Ganges, weaving between bathers, vendors, and offered prayers.

«»

Dean starts yawning on the slopes of Mt. Fuji. It's after lunch, Moscow time, when he starts leaning into Castiel's hand as he flies them away from Red Square. "Who makes the best coffee?" Dean asks. "Wherever that is, let's go there."

Instead, they land again where it's night and the sweet, sweet melody of Sam's atrocious, open-mouthed log sawing greets them.

"That's enough for tonight."

"Naw, c'mon," Dean whispers, "I've still got a couple hours left in me. Let's just hit up a Colombian cafe or something."

Cas points to the digital clock on the nightstand. "It's around the same time in Bogotá. Too early. Get some sleep. Thank you for your help, Dean."

"Some help," Dean is so tired he actually full-on pouts like a child. "We didn't find _anything_."

"Perhaps we will another day. Knife, gun," Cas commands and holds out his hand. Dean hands them over without complaint. He strips off his jacket and kicks off his shoes as he watches Castiel carefully stow his weapons in his bag. When Cas comes back, Dean's tripping out of his jeans awkwardly. Tiredly. Cas puts a hand to his arm again, but only to steady him. Dean's muscles bunch in instinctive preparation for landing, but go liquid and relax when the earth doesn't move under him. "Thank you, Dean," he repeats. "Will you call me when you next have some time to go searching again?"

Cas's hand is warm and light on his arm. Everything is dark and cool and comforting in their room. All he can do is nod, turn as Cas helps him take off his button-up, and then fall into bed. He hears movement behind him and rolls over the sheets until he can see. Cas is taking his wallet and keys and phone out of the pockets of his fallen clothes and placing them on the table next to the bed.

He thinks he mutters something, like 'thanks' or 'night' or whatever, but really he just hmms and clutches the pillow and drops into sleep. If he dreams of flashing through markets in New Delhi or great white cathedrals in Mexico, he can't remember come morning.

«»

Dean has sunglasses on inside the diner like he's got a hangover. "Just a headache," he insists. "Cas wouldn't let me stop in any bars." So Sam orders a huge, greasy breakfast for him and he doesn't have to say a word or move a muscle from his slumped position except to smile a little in thanks.

Sam's not quite up for doing the research for the next case yet, so instead he asks, "So. Go anywhere interesting?"

"Pppppht. Shit."

"So. No?"

"No, I mean, yeah. I mean, _everywhere_ was interesting. We went all over. All kinds of sacred places. Like-- oh, you know that place from _Last Crusade_ you told Cas to check out?"

Sam smiles, long and wide. "You liked that, right?"

"Dude," Dean shakes his head. "So awesome. But there wasn't anything inside. Like just a hallway. There were a bunch of rooms Cas zapped us into, I guess in the rest of the city that got buried. I mean, it was a bust, just like the rest. But woah. Seriously. It looked just like the movie from the outside but otherwise, just, tourists had trashed the place and I donno. It wasn't much to look at. No trap doors or anything."

After Sam accepts their coffee from the waiter, he prompts, "Well what else, man? Sacred places?"

"Yeah, well, it seemed like Cas was hitting up all the most holy or most ancient places he'd heard of. Like there was this monastery on top of a cliff--"

"In Greece?"

Dean nods. "Think so."

"Meteora."

"Okay, yeah. And that city that was on a mountain in P-- uh, Machu Picchu," Dean snaps his fingers.

"Peru!" Sam breathes excitedly, "Oh my god. What was it like?"

"Oh, fuck. It was high up there, man. It was hard to breathe. And the same goes for fucking Nepal. Which, I donno. We bounced all around there."

"Oh my god."

"And that place in Asia-- Cambodia, Cas said. From the Lara Croft movie? You know with the big, crawly trees, with the roots," Dean makes a claw over one hand in example.

"Ta Prohm. Holy shit."

Dean sighs and slumps to hold his head again. "So, we bounced all over the fucking place because, the further Cas flies at once, the easier the landing. 'Cause I guess he just goes that fast or whatever. And I donno. It didn't freak me out or anything. I just feel like I'm still warping all over the place behind my eyeballs."

"But if you went to a bunch of holy sites, you had to have gone to the Vatican."

Dean shrugs. "Cas didn't seem to think it was that important. We didn't go to Italy at all."

"Spain?"

"Just that big cathedral, the big one with all the-- it looks like it's got a bunch of stuff tacked on. And--" he interrupts Sam before he can even keep jumping in, "Notre Dame and Westminster. Oh, and one called Winchester Cathedral," he points, pleased. "In _Winchester_ , England, yeah."

"Dean, we've been to, like, ten towns _here_ called 'Winchester.' I mean, where do you think it comes from?"

"This was our _cathedral_ , though, Sammy."

Sam rolls his eyes. "What about Cologne?"

"The big black one in Germany, yeah. There was one in Turkey and I can't fucking-- uh. High-fi Sophia."

"Hagia Sophia."

"Yeah. And other standard shit which he didn't think was so important, like, the pyramids, and Stonehenge, and the Forbidden City-- like, come on. _Forbidden_? There was a Starbucks."

Sam sighs and sips his coffee. "This was totally wasted on you."

"Hey, _you_ gave it to me."

"Gave you what?"

"My necklace. That was the whole point. Cas said since I've been the one who owned it for so long, only I could operate it."

"So there are sacred objects that angels can't operate. That's interesting."

"Tell me about it. Some of the places, too. They had old-school, ancient angel warding set into the stones. Some places I had to go in by myself and let him know if it started to glow or whatever. It never did."

Sam chews on that thought for a while. Their food comes and they eat in silence and Dean takes off the sunglasses as he starts to feel better through the liberal application of sugars and sausages.

"I don't understand why Cas would be thinking he'd find God in places that obvious," Sam finally says.

Dean only shrugs. "It's his mission, dude. _His_ dad. He would know."

Sam shakes his head. "I donno. I'd look in the places where God _doesn't_ dwell, you know? Places that, I mean, historically or culturally or economically, even, _need_ God. Places that need the blessings that haven't quite come yet."

Dean chews. It's not a crazy idea. He agrees to pass it on. "But our crap comes first. So what's this case we're headed to, next?"

«»

Dean can't tell if the investigation is stalled or if Sam has stalled the investigation to work on making a list for him and Cas. He's certainly got travel envy.

"Yeah, sure. But now you're definitely not coming."

"What?! Why?"

"Because if you're sending us to all these third world fucking countries and into these war zones and deserts and shit," he waves the list Sam wrote up, "then I'm sure as hell not risking you, too. Cas can at least cover my ass, that we can be sure of. This ain't no sightseeing tour."

"Seriously, Dean? I can take care of myself."

"Up against vampires and demons, yeah. Al Qaeda? Plagues? Epidemics? Riots? War? Besides, you spent all your time on this crap so now you have to do. our. actual. work." Dean restacks a book on the dining table with each word for emphasis.

"Or find us the Colt. Or find us a new case."

"Dean, this could be the Colt and a new case and an end to the apocalypse all wrapped up in one--"

"Nuh-uh. You are _not_ drinking the kool-aid on this one. This is Cas's mission--"

"AND yours," Sam points at the amulet resting on his chest.

"I'm helping out a friend," Dean corrects. "I'm doing Cas a solid, that doesn't include _all_ of his homework. We've got our own homework. So get your study on. I'll be back in a few hours but there better not be another list of God's hangouts."

To conclude all argument, Dean sweeps up his jacket and keys, and leaves, even though he's not exactly mentally prepared for these shenanigans again. He gets his weapons out of the trunk (more of them this time, and a whole bag of ammo to boot), and then calls Cas.

"Ready to play Where in the World is Carmen Sandie-god?"

"What?"

"Ohio. The Value Inn on West Broadway, a couple blocks from the cemetery." Dean hangs up.

Cas is there.

" _What_ are we playing?"

"Your game of hide-n-seek with your dad." Dean holds out the list. "Sam has this idea. He doesn't think God would be in any obvious place. He thinks God might go where he'd be needed instead of where he's expected."

Cas squints at the list.

"I think this is a good idea."

"Yeah, he's full of 'em. But we're not going to encourage that. We're gonna check these places out and we're gonna leave _now_ before he comes out of that motel room and insists on coming with us and brings enough Luna Bars," he sneers, "to feed everyone in Africa."

Cas seems to read over the list again. He looks very thoughtful. Then he notices Dean's bag.

"I'm not dropping into Somalia without packing heat," Dean says.

Castiel nods. Instead of dragging Dean off by the elbow or touching him on the forehead, this time he steps up in front of Dean and moves to hover a hand over his shoulder. "Ready?"

Dean's throat goes dry. He should have packed the holy water, too.

«»

At noon, Sam's time, they stop for lunch in Rome during dinner, local time.

Dean only notices where they are when he peeks around Cas's head. Throughout their tour of hell on earth, Cas had been squarely in front of or behind Dean at all times. There was no wandering. There was a lot of stop-and-go, ankle-killing spatial bopping around towns. And there was the back of Cas's head, or Cas ducking over him and the scene of a shoot-out disappearing behind the tan drape of his trench coat.

They were very careful not to run into problems. But what they'd _seen_.

Well. It’s worlds away from the happy tourists and old-world grandeur that crowds the streets before them now.

"I thought you might need to eat."

Dean swallows over his still too-dry throat. Over the stenches and sounds that are still fresh.

"I don't know how. I mean. I don't speak," He motions in front of them.

"Italian. I can order for you."

"I don't have any Euros."

Cas moves to his side and motions at a storefront.  
Right. Credit.

"We don't have to stop here," Cas offers when Dean still doesn't start moving.

"No. Naw, that's okay. Think they got pizza?"

Cas just looks at him sideways and finally breaks away, for the first time in hours, to start wandering away from the square they're in.

A ways down, there's a joint with American signage and a baseball game on the television over the open-air bar. He chooses it over the swankier joints because he can tell which beers are on tap. Cas doesn't have to help him nearly as much as he thought, but once he explains what gnocchi is, Dean wants that instead of pizza.

"We ran through the list pretty quick. Are you sure we spent enough time on each one? I mean, are you sure he's not anywhere there? I'm not totally sure how hot this thing's supposed to get if we're closing in on Him."

Cas shakes his head. "It was enough. He wasn't anywhere nearby those places. I tried to drop us in diagonally across each place Sam recommended. We would have known."

"Okay, but you still never explained how hot it's supposed to get. Or how bright or whatever. Are you sure I'd know? I didn't exactly have eyes-on while we were dodging bullets."

"You would have known. It's supposed to burn. Or grow very warm and glow brightly."

That still isn't exactly comforting or specific.

"Anyway. Hey, are we gonna check out The Vatican while we're here? Maybe you could sneak me into the inner sanctum or something and I could grab some high-level holy heavy metal. Or steal the Pope's hat."

Cas frowns as their server puts a beer down in front of both of them, and keeps on frowning. "The Vatican does not hold any weapons stronger than what you already have. And I've never known a hat to possess any special qualities for fighting demons. Or angels."

"You know, I'm starting to think this trip has been wasted on _both_ of us, Cas."

They do walk across town to Vatican City, however. It's nice not to be jetting off around the world for a while. It gives the gnocchi and beer time to settle in Dean's stomach. The dark of evening crawls in. The voices and languages swirl around them. And all Dean can think, as he studies the crazed patterns of Italian traffic, is how much he'd like to barrel down these narrow stone roads in a giant hunk of black American metal and shit on everyone's day with the Ramones blasting full volume. It might be fun. He might get killed.

When they cross the border of stones that mark the edges of St. Peter's Square, he wonders aloud, "Do you feel any holier when you're in places like this? Like with the Pope nearby and these giant churches around? Or when we were poking around in all those cathedrals the other day?"

Castiel shakes his head. "You make me feel holy. Buildings do not make me feel more holy."

That's the kind of conversational bomb that makes Dean remember that he's talking to an angel who has gone renegade to serve the human purpose. Dean's purpose and Sam's purpose. That he's not just wandering with some lost kid. Cas can radiate that naïveté. He wanders these streets and pops into these towns with Dean, and sometimes Dean knows he's not taking in the scenery like a human would. He's not shaken by it like Dean is or fascinated like Sam would be. Cas watched them all grow up, out of one culture and into all these spread-out, squalling, squabbling ones. And instead of thinking them ridiculous, he is trying to save them. He's hanging out with Dean trying his own hand at stopping the apocalypse.

He thought he could do it on his own, too. Flew off by himself and looked every place he could think of until he found out that what traces he could find of God would be limited to the places where Dean could go.

Dean doesn't realize he's stopped until Cas has to walk back to him.

"Did you want to see inside?" he points to a small illumination in the distance. "That is the Sistine Chapel. Sam would be interested to know that you'd seen it."

Dean thinks that, no matter what, they should try inside the city. Just to see if God had been there or was near. He suddenly wants to go everywhere. He thinks maybe they should have done this in a grid or something. In a more organized fashion.

He nods and follows Cas. They skip the lines, of course.

The Chapel itself has already been closed off for the day. When they hop inside it's dark and empty. The paintings are nice and all, but Dean's still bothered by the thought that he doesn't know what it's like for the amulet to light up or heat up or _whatever_ in his hand. As they look up at the ceiling, he takes it off from around his neck and wraps the cord around his wrist so the brass amulet falls into his left palm.

They zap off so Cas can show him some other spots inside the Vatican. It's got nice gardens and all this art. Halls full of busts and old world maps painted by hand. The amulet doesn't grow warm except from the heat of his hand. He gets used to the temperature of it so he can monitor it more closely.

When Cas has exhausted anecdotes about douchey popes and the punks who painted them, Dean asks if there's any primo holy water or like a postcard they should pick up for Sam. Cas only shrugs.

"Okay. Well. I have an idea."

«»

Sam coughs sandwich crumbs on his phone when he gets an incredibly clear picture message (unobstructed by bulletproof glass or decorative fencing) of Dean casually leaning against Mary, throwing up metal horns over Michelangelo's _Pietà_.

«»

Dean's the one who gets caught doing Castiel's homework this time.

They're supposed to be sleeping so they can get up and break into a building at a more appropriate hour, but Sam can tell that Dean's been up the whole time on the laptop making a new list.

When it's Dean's turn for the bathroom, Sam finally sneaks a look at what he was researching and isn't as amused as he thought he'd be.

His puppy eyes nearly stop Dean's heart when he emerges from the shower.

"You can't do this."

"Sure I can. We only need one suit, I figure Cas can breathe out there on his own, what with the whole 'not human' thing he has going on."

"Okay. A diver's suit you can do. A space suit you will not. fucking. do. Dean. Those things are massively heavy and delicate as hell. They're expensive and you're supposed to be hooked up to _an entire shuttle_ for oxygen."

"There _are_ tanks," Dean corrects him, because yes sir, he did his research.

"Okay. Okay, fine, Dean, but goddamnit, those things are ancient and they've been in heavy use and the whole fucking shuttle program is about to be retired, for fuck's sake! I know you wanna help Cas," -- at this point Dean rolls his eyes and walks away -- "but this is over the line, man. I'm sorry he can't use the amulet without you but look for God anywhere on earth. If the guy is that far off -- so far off he's on another _planet_? There's no way he's coming back here to drag our asses out of the fire."

Dean doesn't want to believe that. He pushes down the fact that he already _does_ think so to argue with his brother for the rest of the morning. All Dean's hopes for the plan are completely dashed when Sam goes on some number-fueled rant about how a regular suit for spacewalks would have no hope of standing up to the harsh environments of even the nearest planets. There could, conceivably, be as many space suits as there are planets thanks to gravity, temperature, and the chemical make-up of different atmospheres.

Even his hopes of searching underwater are crushed when, upon hiding from a security guard under a desk for five minutes, Dean remembers that he's not the biggest fan of confined spaces.

«»

When they don't get arrested, Dean is such a whiney, nagging little shit that Sam finally steals the car keys and leaves to spend the rest of the day at a coffee shop or the movies or anyplace but in Dean's company.

Dean looks up stuff about the International Space Station until he stops completely fooling himself and closes out the browser.

Sam's computer is new because the last one more or less got grave dirt in all its orifices. The desktop background is one of those generic, featureless green landscapes. Kind of the opposite of all the places he's been with Cas lately. Most of them had been packed with tourists or just the religious, or crowded with the poor or with soldiers. They hadn't really ventured anyplace where no one was.

He doesn't bother with anything but a knife this time. Sam drove off with all the other weapons, anyway.  
He layers, laces his boots, and he calls Cas.

«»

There is a lot of coastline in the world. Sandy beaches, rocky beaches, snowy beaches, icy beaches. Dean hadn't ever thought about it until now.

Castiel had to think for a minute when Dean proposed the idea. Dean asked him to consider the most barren, empty places. The ones that barely get disturbed. He has no doubt that people go everywhere, that all these humans have crossed all of this land at least once. But he thinks they should try the places no one would think to try.

Cas had finally nodded, and Dean had stepped close. After one touch, they were in a vast, white desert.

The landing had been a little hard so he'd guessed that it was close. "New Mexico?" he asked. Cas shrugged. Dean hadn't been through in years, so he supposed it was worth a try. He took off his necklace and wrapped it around his wrist again. They moved across the desert a few times and then Cas took them to a different one, the Gobi. It was the middle of the night there, cold and windswept.

After that had been the Sahara, and then Dean had suggested deep woods or forests, too thick and dangerous for humans to venture. Cas had tried some rainforests.

The guilt about spacesuits wore on Dean. He felt inadequate to the task. Cas could squeeze himself in to this tiny Jimmy suit to go on hunts with the Winchesters, but Dean couldn't go planet-hopping or make himself try to breathe through the experience of wearing a deep-sea suit. He explained all the research he'd done, the fight he'd had with Sam, and kind of apologized to Cas. Though he couldn’t really feel sorry for being too human.

Castiel only agreed with Sam. It was too risky; the deep too dark. Other planets too unaccustomed to harboring human forms. He admitted that even his vessel might be damaged by those kinds of journeys.

They had searched wherever they could on this earth for a few more hours.

And now they find themselves here, this different desert, made of stone and snow. Antarctica.

It's summer down here. Not nearly as cold as it could be. They check in near the small research stations, but they mostly keep to the vast, open mountains. They wander off from each other sometimes, but Cas will always come back, meander up to him and reach for his hand. He'll open Dean's palm and look down at the amulet, dark and cold as always.

"Should we try the other one?" Dean asks pointing straight up. Shakes his head and corrects, pointing straight down.

"It's incredibly cold," Castiel warns.

Dean only shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, ready.

Cas crowds close to his side this time and puts his arm through Dean's. They land on a great shelf of ice and it's startlingly, wickedly cold. Almost dark, too, but for the stray greens of a few aurora.

Holy fuck. So cold.

Cas doesn't wander away this time, he sticks near Dean. Dean walks as far as his legs will allow, then Cas zaps them off to a different place, a beach that must be rocks beneath all the ice. Shudders start ripping through Dean when Cas pulls his hand from his pocket to check the amulet. He doesn't let go this time. He sees that there is no light, no other warmth coming from it, and he folds Dean's hands into his own, jolting them from one barren icescape to another. The amulet radiates their own warmth back to them, but no more.

They land on a blazing hot beach back in the southern hemisphere.

Dean moans at the heat of the sun. After a few minutes he's able to reclaim his hands and sets to work making sure none of his fucking parts fell off in the cold.

Cas just watches.

"How are my ears?" Dean asks, rubbing warmth back into them, "Black? Will I survive? Think I should pull my shoes off and count my toes?" he smiles.

"You're all there," Castiel assures him, and steps forward one more time. In a blink, they're watching the sun descending towards the horizon and this time Dean knows where they are.

Cas had picked a high point overlooking the rolling Palouse. So much endless earth spread out below them, looking deceptively simple and plain, like the friggin' desktop background. He's rambled through these hills before.

Castiel gives him a weak half-smile and sits on the grass.

Dean blinks down at him.  
That's the end then.

He sits down on the grass, too.

"So no chance for a spacewalk at all, huh? No way you can think of?" Dean asks after a while.

Cas shakes his head only once.

"C'mon," Dean swings a little to the left, nudges Castiel's immovable stone form with an elbow. "Not even a Lois Lane type deal?" he asks.

Cas squints confusion at him after a moment.

Dean bites his bottom lip. "You know. Superman up into the sky. Hover over the earth. You bring the oxygen. I'll provide the expert tongue action. Mid-air makeouts." He winks, arches an eyebrow.

"That's... not a reliable method of oxygen transfer."

Dean clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, I know, you know, just thought I'd ask."

Cas stares at his knees for a while. "Does kissing make things feel better."

Dean wavers. "Lots of things make you feel better. Beer. Sex. Food. Yeah, kissing is nice. Anything that distracts you is nice."

"I don't want to be distracted. I want to be focused. Like I used to be."

And Dean's sorry for that. That for as close as Cas huddles to their humanity, he loses out on that perfection he values so highly. That he gets all this in exchange and it's this mess of lonely deserts and crowded kitsch and war, confusion, anger. He wants to find something for Cas. And he wants for the amulet to work for him and help him do this job on his own so he doesn't need a weak-ass flesh bag hanging around making light of the whole empty misery of it.

Shit. If Dean himself could be even a little bit of a relief, he'd take it. Do what it takes.

He shifts closer to Castiel and their knees bump together and he pulls Cas's limp hand into his and presses the amulet between them.

"We should keep looking."

Cas shakes his head. "We should be realistic. We should find the Colt. A way to destroy Lucifer."

"He's out there, Cas," Dean insists and presses the amulet between them so it heats up from just their skin.

"I want Him to be, but He's not, Dean. This is fantasy. How would a piece of metal betray His will to stay hidden?"

Dean can't answer that. "It's what the lore says."

"Lore can be wrong."

"Well, then it's what Bobby said."

" _I_ told you about the amulet, Bobby didn't know. He found the lore after I called him."

"Bobby found the lore, Bobby can't be wrong."

"Are you trying to say something about your unshakable faith in Bobby Singer?"

Dean smiles. "So Bobby _is_ God and he just gave me this hunk'a junk and _told_ us it was the amulet. The amulet is actually that light he keeps on all night over the stove."

Castiel actually laughs. So Dean has that.

"What about the past?" Dean asks after a minute. "What if He's shut himself away out of synch with time or something? Or maybe He's a little kid going to school. Or a coma patient zonked out in a hospital."

"Dean."

They're quiet again.

"It's also possible," Cas pauses and licks his lips. "If He has returned to heaven, he might not even tell the angels, or he may tell my brothers to misdirect me. But either way I couldn't get in to find out. This is. Thank you. For spending your time on this. But this is--"

"Dammit, Cas. No. There are still so many places to look."

"And so many more we can't even get to," Cas smiles sadly. "I will take you back to Sam and we should pursue other courses of action."

"No, that's _our_ job. _You_ keep looking for God."

"I don't want to," Cas says, short and flat. He wraps both his hands tight around Dean's hands as if trying to soak more heat into the amulet himself. Like he's trying to melt it down, right there, between them. "I wasn't meant to use the amulet on my own. I wasn't meant to find God," he concludes.

"Oh. Yeah. More of this destiny bullshit I don't believe in. How far did you think that was gonna fly, exactly?"

Cas stops the rant before it can even crank to life. "I was _meant_ , instead, to go on this journey with you." Cas indicates the necklace between them. And slowly, he lets go of Dean's hands.

"I didn't have it close enough at the beginning. I didn't keep it in my hand. Maybe we should go back to the first places. Or maybe we're still wrong about where He'd be hanging out. Maybe He's pretending to be some homeless drunk or-- or a soccer mom. We never tried any suburbs. Any little no-nothing villages or towns," and Dean's rapid-fire insistence that there are more places, so many left to check, so many they haven't thought of, is cut off by Castiel's mouth on his, kissing him once and falling back again.

They watch the sun start to set. After a while Cas peels Dean's fingers open and unwraps the cord of the necklace from around Dean's wrist. He straightens it out and moves to lean over Dean, loops it over his head and sets it down against his chest gently. The brass is still warm from them.

With Castiel hovering there over him, he can't not mirror the hold with his tie and pull him down and kiss his mouth open until he lays back into the grass and pulls Cas between his knees.

He brought Cas down to this but when they're together, Cas feels more holy. Not in St. Peter's Basilica, not on the banks of the Ganges. When they were iceberg hopping and looking out over Irish farmland and creeping too close to molten lava in Gaua, Cas felt more holy than in the houses of his Father.

This feels right. This feels like the beginning of something important. Like losing who you were and falling for your best friend and kissing it all better.

It's not all better. But when they are together, things work. And when they are apart, they're scrambling. That's all just solid fact now.

When Dean is done kissing Cas for the moment and Cas rests his head on Dean's chest, breathing over the amulet, the world is still ending. God is still missing. They're still in deep shit. They might not even be able to march the length of death row together.

But they can try. That's all Dean wants, is the chance to try.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for orange_crushed from one of the prompts she gave me: "what if cas took dean with him on the search for God? like the amulet worked for dean but not for angels. dean, who has been down every backassroad in america, but never *been* anywhere. I have to assume they’d want to seek God in very different places. and I wonder how far cas could take him, where, when- like, dean being human and cas being some real-life fifth-dimensional shit himself." When she sent me the promts for her DashCon comission, I happened to be organizing my skies & landscapes folder on my computer (literally a gig of desktop backgrounds, pictures of nebulas, volcanoes, clouds, lonely roads, etc.) and I could barely even think of the other promts it all clicked so immidiately. See my [skies and landscapes](http://majorenglishesquire.tumblr.com/tagged/skies-and-landscapes) tag on Tumblr for a pretty small sample of what I'm babbling about.
> 
> I've never been to [the Palouse](https://www.google.com/search?q=palouse&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=ZvPZUdL2F4vo9gSekoHwDQ&ved=0CEQQsAQ&biw=1366&bih=681). It's the most gorgeous place I've ever seen and I desperately want to go there and see the sun rise. That had nothing to do with anything, I just wanted to whine about it.
> 
> Trax on repeat while writing were mostly [Lightning Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvduavY04mY) and [That's the Way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TANKvE3sI3w). Bonus, [I Never Came](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eIiu1CjrTE).


End file.
